


LOVED

by Giant_Woman



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Biting, Blood, Blow Jobs, Cutting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mutilation, Self-Harm, Unhealthy Relationships, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 23:52:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16252355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giant_Woman/pseuds/Giant_Woman
Summary: Nagito feels overwhelmed with self hatred and wants to seriously self harm, so he comes to Chihiro to ask for a favor: for Chihiro to administer the punishment instead. Chihiro, overwhelmed with the desire to help him, can't say no, but also can't figure out how to say yes. Just a bunch of trauma and pain and despair, but it does end on a hopeful note with some comfort so there's that.





	LOVED

I’m completely absorbed, mind deeply wrapped around the latest coding project I've been working on when there’s a knock on my door. I look down to the clock in the bottom corner of my screen. 2:30 am. Who in the world would be here at this time of day? Somewhat anxiously, I rub my eyes and answer the door. 

I’m greeted by a face much too pale for anything alive, hair only slightly lighter, in a mess, and eyes swirling with an unholy mixture of hope and despair.

“Hi, Nagito,” My voice comes out both quieter and more wavering than I would like.

“Chihiro, hey, uh, sorry to bother you with a disgusting creature like me, but I hoped you could help me.” Like mine, his voice also wavers, but with a sense of unhinged desperation instead of uncertainty. Tears pool in the corner of my eyes. I can’t possibly imagine what it is he wants me to help him with, but I get a sinking feeling in my stomach when he does. My heart shatters when I hear him talk that way about himself.

“Oh, Nagito, of course I’ll help you, it’s no bother.” I try to communicate how good he is with my tone, as best as I can, anyway. He’s always like this, self-deprecating, constantly going on about how terrible he is, and I know he can’t possibly feel loved.

“I was hoping you would say something like that, because I really need it. I’m going to hurt myself.” He’s staring directly at his hand, the hint of laughter in his voice, otherwise very matter of fact. 

“Wh-what?” I squeak out, the tears escaping my eyes and sliding down my cheeks. 

“Well, I figured that maybe, if it wouldn’t be too much of a waste of time, you could do it for me?”

“M-m-me?” 

“Yeah, I mean, you’re so nice to a piece of trash like me. I thought that maybe, you’d do it, as a favor, I mean.”

“But, Nagito! You shouldn’t hurt yourself! You’re good!” I’m wailing through the tears now, unable to control my tone or volume. I can’t imagine why he’s coming to me for something like this. I couldn’t stand to hurt him, to hurt anyone.

“You’re too nice to me. God, they say you’re the ultimate programmer, but you really ought to be called the ultimate kindness. That’s why I came to you. I know I have no right to ask you, but you always humor me. If I do it to myself, it has to be really bad, but if you hurt me, I figured it wouldn’t have to be as much. I figured you of all people could take pity on me?” 

My heart jumps a little at his explanation. How did Nagito just respond to my unspoken thoughts? It’s uncanny sometimes how he seems to be able to read my mind. I don’t respond, but the surprise seems to unsettle me enough stop up the wails from continuing to pour from my mouth. 

“So, would you help me?” He continues, an oddly hopeful look in his eyes. He’s so earnest, I can barely understand it. He really truly feels so deeply upset, so deeply unloved that he needs something like this to feel better. But I’m me. I can’t hurt a person. I can’t even hurt a mosquito. How can I say yes? 

But how can I say no?

“Nagito, I… I don’t wanna hurt you. Can we maybe just talk about it?” I suggest, ever so quietly. 

“Aw, Chihiro, man, you’re too nice to me. But I brought this razor blade and I don’t have much time before I use it!” Nagito reaches into the pocket of his jacket and  produces a small rectangular blade. I jump, reaching towards him, but my hands falter just before I can touch him, knowing better than I do that I can’t trust him. He’s not afraid to hurt me, as crazy as that sounds in his utter admiration of me and everyone else who’s here. Nagito’s brain just doesn’t work right, so wrestling a razor blade out of his hands would be a very good way to get us both hurt. I’m powerless to do anything.

“I’m sorry...” I return my hands to my sides anxiously looking down to the floor. “I don’t want you to hurt! I don’t want to hurt you!” 

“That’s alright,” He laughs hollowly, then immediately, before I have the chance to react, he effectively throws his pants to the floor, leaving me in totally stunned silence. 

“You don’t have to do anything. I just figured I’d circumcise myself then, or maybe I’ll just have to cut the whole thing off one piece at a time,” Nagito looks down, eyes barely focusing, using his free hand to grab his penis. He raises his other hand, still clutching the razor blade, pulling his arm back to an alarming degree. How much force would that even take and why does he need to use so much of it? I blink twice, trying with some difficulty to form words. 

“Nonononononono.” I finally do form words, or at least one that comes out over and over again, all in a rush. “Let me hurt you, okay?! I’ll do it.” I’m crying harder now, reaching out as cautiously as possible to touch his wrist just before his hand with the razor blade in it. There’s nothing I can possibly do to convince him not to self-mutilate in front of me without hurting him myself, and if I do take control of this situation, if I’m smart, and I can somehow manage stomach it, maybe I can do something mitigate the harm to him. 

Nagito’s eyes light up when he looks back at me. “You’d really help a worthless piece of trash like me?! You’re too kind. In that case, please, do whatever you want to me. Circumcise me yourself, or carve words into my body, fuck me, beat me, make me cum forever and don’t let me stop, anything. Just whatever you need to do to punish me, please.” He thrusts the blade, sharp end facing him, into my hands. 

I don’t know how I’m planning to hurt someone, anyone, especially as badly as I imagine he’s after, but I also don’t know how I could possibly get out of it without him mutilating himself much worse than I ever could. The only thing I do seem to know is that I need more time to think, and more time to try to calm my heart, which, despite being broken, is still beating rapidly, violently inside my chest.

“Okay, I’ll help you, but you need to understand, to do this right, I’m gonna need some time to think about how.” I consider the words carefully as I can while still responding quickly enough for him. I’ll have more time to consider if this works.

“Oh!” Nagito gasps in realization. “Wow, truly only an ultimate like you would put so much thought into this. I’m honored to wait… I mean, as long as I know I’ll get what’s coming to me eventually!” 

“Okay, okay,” I nod softly, closing my eyes to try to stop the flow of tears. Trying to form a plan is calming, in a way. Despite the fact that the plan I’m forming is one to do something something horrible, the very action of creating goals and then a series of procedures designed to meet them helps give my mind a way to do something, something to engage it so it doesn’t just keep running between thoughts of how terrible this is.

I want Nagito and me to both be safe. It's a simple goal. I've learned at this point that my obstacles include his desire to be hurt, punished specifically, and his urgency about getting that met. He wants to be punished because, I can assume, he feels that he's bad. He's openly said as much. I don't seem to be able to stop him feeling that way, and certainly not by talking it out here and now. He's subdued for the moment because he thinks I'm thinking about how to hurt him most efficiently, but if I attempt to spend any more time trying to talk him out of it, I'll run into his urgency and he'll become a danger to both of us again. At this point, I truly don’t see a route around the premise. I have to accept it as it’s been given to me, so, if I want him not to self-mutilate, I’ll need to be the one to administer a punishment to him. This much will simply not go my way. 

So my new goal is to overcome the challenge this creates. It’s to hurt him as little as possible, both for his sake, and for the sake of my sensitive heart, while still meeting the terms he’s set out for himself. Just how little I can get away with will be a complicated balance that I’ll need to strike between sides. If I lean too far away from hurting him enough, Nagito will take matters into his own hands. Too far towards hurting him, and I’ll have not only reinforced his feelings that the punishment is deserved, but I’ll have to leave with a deeper sense of guilt for hurting him more than absolutely necessary. 

I open my eyes slightly, flickering them briefly over on Nagito. He’s waiting, still standing in front of me, having made no move to replace his pants and looking at me with an impatient expression, slightly trembling in place with anticipation. Not much time left, I decide, even to keep thinking like this. I wipe my eyes with the back of my sleeve to continue thinking. 

Maybe I can buy myself more time, but only if he thinks it’s important. One of the only advantages I have in this situation is his utter obsession with me, his assumption that I’m perfect. But I know he’s smart. Probably as much as I am, maybe more. So he’ll pick up on it if he senses anything disingenuous when I direct him to do something. He needs to believe I’m really doing it to punish him, or because it’s something I want just purely for my sake. He can’t sense that I’m directing him to do anything because I care about him. Any indication that I’m doing this to make him feel loved and he’ll absolutely lose it. But, if I can find a way to play on his desire to be useful to me, to do what I want, without letting him know that I’m trying to help him, I can maybe pull something off. I form an idea, and it’s a good one not only for buying time, but maybe for caring for him as well. The best solutions solve more than one problem at a time, after all. Now, if only I wasn’t such an emotional mess, I could have confidence in it. I say a quick mental prayer to anyone who might be listening before I commit to trying. I’m throwing myself in way deeper than I should. But I don’t have a choice. 

“Okay,” I fight to keep my voice even… and I lose, but I continue on anyway, “I know what I want to do but I need us to do something first, okay?” 

“Uh, I mean, I’ll do whatever you ask me to, of course, but you gotta understand I need to be punished, right?” He’s suspicious already. There’s still plenty of time left to recover, but this isn’t a good sign for me. I can only hope it ends up working.

“Yeah, I- I understand.” I nod, voice continuing to waver. I don’t have any kind of hope of pretending to be okay with this, of handling this in a calm, emotionally controlled way, but I can try to make that work with me. “You know I don’t want to hurt you. I’m doing you a favor. You want me to. I’m a little upset about it, but I’d be more upset if you had to do it to yourself, right?”

“Of course,” He sighs “There’s no way someone useless like me could have a choice that makes you actually happy. It’s just one of those ways I disappoint you, right?”

Tears, having just been wiped away, return to my eyes again. I can’t say anything to address that misconception. 

“Not exactly, but I understand you. Before we do this…” I pause, in as calculated a way as possible while my heart is breaking and my eyes are leaking tears.

“Well, before we do this, I need to give you a bath!” It’s easy enough to make this come out with a sense of embarrassment. I am actually sort of embarrassed to say it, but I want him to assume that I’m embarrassed, or maybe more ashamed, to admit that I believe that I shouldn’t lower myself to touching someone like him without at least giving him a bath first. 

Nagito looks genuinely shocked, blinking a few times “Oh, yeah, okay, Chihiro, sure.”

“Thank you. Now, come with me, we’ll get started now,” I say, as firmly as possible. Nagito steps out of the pants that are still around his ankles and follows me into my bathroom. I sit the razor on the far side of the tub and then plug the drain to start running warm water. Next, I turn back around and gently grab each side of Nagito’s jacket, easing it off of his arms. He moves to facilitate this, making it easy on me. I help him out of his T-shirt as well, so he’s standing naked in front of me. 

It’s even more noticeable how small he is without his clothes on. His ribs protrude, and his body is possibly even paler than his face. He’s so obviously, visibly, sick. It pulls more tears from my eyes and I start to sob, softly, quietly, as subdued as possible, but still sobbing. I wish, more than anything else in the world right now, that I could make him feel better. I wish I could make him not sick anymore. I wish I could make him feel better about himself. But instead, I’m stuck in this situation. In this reality, where I’m too weak to do anything, where I’m too emotional to enact a coherent plan, where I just can’t stop crying. 

But. But I’ve made it this far. And maybe I can pull off something, some kind of a plan. Nothing good, nothing that fixes his life and puts him back together in some way that means he won’t hurt anymore. But maybe something manageable, something that helps him avoid the worst of it, something that can convince him that he’s loved, even if it can’t make him believe he should be. And, as a goal, that’ll have to be enough. 

Once the tub is full, Nagito sits down in it, holding himself somewhat awkwardly. With me standing beside the tub and him sitting, I’m significantly taller than him. 

“God,” he says “I’m so sorry to bother you with doing something like this for something so worthless as me.” 

“It’s just a bath” I manage “It’s fine, and I want you clean before I punish you in any way like that.” I use the cup I keep on the bathroom sink to gather a bit of water and pour over his hair. It’s tangled, matted into several distinct sections that won’t separate easily. I can maybe work this out with shampooing, conditioning, and working gently through each piece, separating it as much as possible, and then repeating over and over again. A mindless task I can set my hands to that will give me more time to plan. 

“Well, of course. I guess I don’t know why I thought you’d touch someone like me without cleaning me first. Obviously, I’m disgusting.” 

He seems to be determined to smash my heart into a million tiny, empathetic pieces, but I can’t be too distracted. I can’t argue, however desperately I want to, but I can cry, and I can even sob, and he, at least so far, hasn’t been agitated by that. It doesn’t seem to threaten the idea that he’ll get the punishment he believes he needs, just crying. So it’s with this thought in mind that I settle into standing over my bathtub, openly sobbing, bathing someone I desperately wish to save, but know is beyond my reach. 

Despite all the thinking I continue to do, methodically as possible, I don’t have any concrete decisions made. Even when the water starts to cool and I empty and refill the tub, even as the tangles finally start to pull out of his hair, I’m still too uncertain of what he’s going to need. I’ve determined fairly quickly that it’s most likely best if it’s sexual. I can easily gather that much from his list of suggestions and proposed method of self-mutilation. I’d be embarrassed about it if I had room under all the heartbreak. But still, even too upset to be embarrassed, I don’t have a good handle on how exactly to structure something like this. I’m not incredibly familiar with sex or with self-harm, so the ins and outs of how I can work with them here aren’t going to come as easily. Determining the ideal scenario to be sexual has, unfortunately, given me nothing about the actual details of enacting it. 

Nagito does seem to be satisfied with the bath, relaxed even, so I have reason enough to suspect that I’ve made him believe it’s for my sake. A vote of confidence for me, I suppose. Once I’ve finally untangled his hair entirely and can even run my comb through it without resistance, I move on to washing his body. This is easier, as it seems like he neglects washing and brushing his hair much more often than he neglects showering. It only takes a gentle scrubbing with a washcloth to clean him off completely. By the time I’m done, though, my stomach is swirling with dread. I’ve not stopped crying at any point, my shirt soaked completely with tears, and I don’t stop now, even as I grab the razor from the side of the tub, as I know he expects me to do. 

“Thanks” Nagito says as he stands up out of the bath. “You really are too good to me, you know? Indulging me like this. I’m lucky that you’re willing to do all this. To punish me, and first to clean me so I’m not too disgusting for you to touch.”

I deliberately avoid pointing out that the bath involved touching him quite a lot. It feels different to him, and if I don’t put up any resistance, his acceptance that I’m telling the truth will be much less in question. Not only will this let me help him more with the punishment, but I believe it would crush him to know I was being nice to him and he just accepted it. This adds greater volume to the tears that just don’t stop pouring down my cheeks. 

If only I could help Nagito for real, to make him stop feeling that way, to make him feel loved. Maybe I could, if only I was stronger. If only I was smarter. If only I had a stronger stomach. If only I was better at controlling my emotions. If only I had more medical knowledge. If only I wasn’t so small? If only I was a better boy? If only I was better at making my care for him actually mean something. Maybe I could, if only I was better. But I’m not better. I’m me. Small and weak and helpless. Stuck here. Stuck with what’s about to happen, with doing terrible actions that I’ve yet to even be able to determine what are yet to someone I want to help. I’m profoundly stuck in this reality wherein the best way to be good- or least bad at least is to hurt someone I only want to love. And these thoughts just echo through my head as we return to my room and I have to ask him to lay down in my bed to help him… at least as much as I can. 

“L-lay down now,” my voice cracks a little, but he’s gotten used to it. It doesn’t seem to bother him, so he listens with ease, climbing into bed and laying on his back. I haven’t dried him off, so the sheets suck the water from him, soaking it up. Now where to go from here, I still can’t be sure. I stare at the razor blade I have in my hand. It’s what he’s brought. Using the tool he gave me is probably the best idea. It also makes the decision easier, a little less open ended, and for whatever reason, he had decided it would be satisfying enough to use that that’s what he brought along. 

I sit up on the bed beside him, feet swinging out underneath me, and then I look to face him.  Nagito is still giving me that look of desperation mixed with anticipation and I know I have to start doing something. I look at my hand, still holding the razor he’d brought, I look at him, and I make a decision. 

“A-are you ready?” My voice still wavers, as it has been the entire time, but Nagito ignores it.

“Of course!” He’s excited, smiling up at me enthusiastically. I take a deep, deep breath, holding it for a second before committing. 

“Okay, hold still then” I start by getting a rough grip of his penis, moving my hand slightly. He responds by biting his lip and making a low, quiet sound in the back of his throat. I’ve decided that perhaps the best course of action, if not the only one I have available to me, would be to go one step at a time. A single step in this case is to get arousal to happen on a physical level. I know I’ll have to make it hurt significantly more than it must right now, but for this, he looks satisfied with the amount of force alone. 

It works, and soon enough he’s sort of writhing, penis hard in my hand. It’d be more interesting, maybe even fun, to watch if he didn’t want it because he hates himself so much. Now he’s all worked up, I know have to move to a second step. I give a brief thought to whether it’s a safe idea from a sexual health perspective, but decide that no options that exist are safe anymore, so I turn over to lean over him, balancing on my knees and  the back of my hand with the razor blade in it. Then I move down to place my mouth just above my hand, putting just as much of his penis as is above my hand in my mouth. Nagito gasps.

“Chihiro, what?” His eyes are wide, his head shifted forward, neck craned so he can see me without adjusting any more of his position. 

“Don’t worry,” I pull back enough to say, “It’s all part of my plan. It’ll hurt.” 

I’ve made him suspicious now, it seems, but I have this. This part will just have to hurt him a little more than I had perhaps anticipated. I bite down. Nagito yelps, his hands rushing to clutch at the wet sheets underneath him. I can feel his muscles tense under me. I giggle. I can’t help it. I am lucid enough to realize that this is a reaction to trauma. Something about this latest response he’s given me has pushed this situation over the edge so I can’t keep empathizing any more. To continue to do so would apparently break me in some much deeper way. So now, here I am 

Nagito stares at me uncertainly after the giggling, but I continue on, sucking firmly. My next plan, which I’m now able to see in, a stark, perhaps dissociative clarity, is to get him to orgasm. I can now start to see more than the step in front of me. Not bad for step 2 of a one-step-at-a-time plan, I think. After hurting him as minimally as possible until orgasm, perhaps, depending on his reaction, I can finish by using the razor blade still clutched in my right hand somehow, and that’ll be enough. With the additional sensitivity created, it should be more intense if I cut him then, and having just before experienced that physical release might increase the likelihood that he’ll feel a sense of completion that will allow me to get away without much more. Otherwise, a new plan is in order.

Nagito continues to writhe and moan while I suck on him, biting periodically to add sharp pain to the experience. His hands keep twisting back and forth, still pulling at the sheets on the bed. He’s stopped being concerned with looking at me, instead laying his head back, openly moaning, punctuating that constant sound with a bit of soft gasping at each bite. He doesn’t move away, though, even when I bite, he doesn’t even flinch back. My tears are starting to dry up now too. It seems like a good thing as far as getting through the experience is concerned, but I’m a little concerned with what it might mean for my mental health more long-term. However, I remind myself, that, somewhat paradoxically, should probably be the last thing on my mind right now if I actually intend to take care of it. I need all my mental resources right now to be focused on this. 

I move my hand away from him and slide my mouth down further, taking as much of the length into my mouth as I can without gagging. Nagito inhales sharply, pulling his hands off the bed to hover over my shoulders and then quickly placing them on top of his stomach instead. 

“Sorry,” He calls out between gasps for breath. “I didn’t mean to.”

I look up at him, carefully moving nothing more than my eyes to acknowledge that I’ve heard him, but I determine it’s best to let that go by unacknowledged. He’s clearly getting closer to cumming, his breathing turning more rapid, catching up in his throat as he tries to speak. I have an idea for how to finish this when I’m done with this step. A risky idea, but if it works… why I feel like gambling all of the sudden? I commit to it. 

I pull my head back slightly, then use my free hand to pull his foreskin back out of the way before running my tongue directly over the exposed glans that was underneath. He rapidly returns his hands the places they just left on the sheet a moment ago, still bunched up, and his hips seem to move themselves up against me in response. 

He’s squirming, starting to cry with pleasure. I’m a little alarmed at how pleasant it is to see, despite the context. He’s closing his eyes, crying out, entirely lost in the sensation, and I’ve barely kept it up for a moment when he’s covering my tongue, incidentally placed perfectly for it, with cum. 

Immediately, still not a feeling in the world in my numb heart, I take him out of my mouth. Before he has time for any sort of rest, I steady his penis firmly with one hand. With the other, I hold the razor he’s brought for me and then, just above his urethra, to the left for me, I push the blade, angled so just the corner and a little of the length of it is used, dig it into the head of his penis. I draw a small, vertical line. Nagito screams, immediately alarmed, covering his mouth with his hands. I move myself, standing up on my knees and placing myself so I’m straddling both of his legs, making it easier for him not to move. Then I make another line at the bottom of the first, perpendicular and about half the length. 

Tears stream down his face. I move to my right, drawing the best curved line I can in such a small space, then another touching it until I have a small circle. He screams more into his hands, nearly gagging on the tears, but I persist, soul still numb. Two diagonal lines, facing each other and meeting in a point at the bottom. Red (pink?) is starting to make it difficult to see, so, damning the consequences, I lean forward, putting the razor aside and dragging my tongue slowly over the wounds to clear the blood. 

“Chihiro!!” Nagito screams, somehow simultaneously making a sound that I can only describe as agony embodied that continues past my name. I don’t acknowledge this one either. I can’t. I’m almost done. Almost done. Next is another vertical line, as long as the first and then, in as quick succession as possible, three horizontal ones that meet at the left side. Almost done, almost done. He’s still in tears, still making that sound of complete anguish. The blood has continued seeping out, but the area’s not quite too covered to see, so I don’t bother to lick or even brush it away again, I just dig the razor blade in beside to place one last vertical line and then a curve that touches both ends of it. Nagito seems to be nearly convulsing now, his mouth still open in a silent scream. He doesn’t seem to be capable of making noise anymore. His hands have now started hover by mine, but they don’t touch them at all He’s had the self restraint to avoid even touching me even through this all. 

“Okay, I’m done, I’m done.” I breathe heavily, just now noticing that I’ve been holding my breath for quite a while. The sound returns to his mouth, coming out in gasps for air at first and then in wails. He opens his arms for me in a hopeful gesture and, without hesitation I fall into them. We fall apart on each other now. My eyes flood with tears as  I can finally begin again to emotionally process what I’ve done. I wrap my arms around him, wriggling my hands to touch underneath him in a hug and he closes his own around my back. He cries, burying his face into my hair on top of my head. Neither of us move except with the sobs and the shaking that overtake us. Neither of us speak again for a long while.

“Nagito, you’re really so much better than you think. There’s nothing so wrong with you. I want you to know.” I finally break the silence.

“Oh, Chihiro. If I was good, I wouldn’t have needed to do that to you.” Nagito answers quietly.

“It’s okay.” I shake my head, “You have problems. Problems with self-harm and problems with boundaries and problems that make you dangerous sometimes. But I’m still here. We’re still friends and it’ll still be alright. I do want you to do better, to not do something like this again if you can, but that starts with knowing this.”

“Chihiro…” Nagito seems stunned, looking at me like I’m the world, tears welling up in his eyes again. 

“Look, I hoped maybe it would help, so, well… I thought maybe you’d remember if I did this” I blush a bit before I sit back up. The blood is nearly dried now, so I wipe it away as best as possible with my sleeve. Beneath it, I show him my handiwork, placed with hopes that the scars will always be visible to remind him. His smile lights up the room when he sees it. 

LOVED


End file.
